Relic: Excavate
by tamayoriko
Summary: Book 0. Anabel escapes her life in the only ways she can. She ends up in Kanto, in a fragile, broken ecosystem and a rising organization determined to control it. So much for not drawing attention to herself. Rebalanced Red. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hi! A reader introduced me to Rebalanced Red, a redone version of Pokemon FireRed/LeafGreen. And I wanted to go into Anabel's history a bit while I had the chance so this was born. Granted, this game is not finished, so I have a limited amount of the plot. So I'm twisting it some and taking liberties with a lot. Well then, please sit back, relax and enjoy the story of Relic's Anabel, the Salon Maiden of the Battle Frontier!

* * *

 **Chapter One: Duty and Desire**

 _A grave is still a grave when it's covered in flowers._

These words, so old and solemn, were engraved on the small shrine feathered away in the trees of Crown City Park. These words, so old and solemn, were dancing through the head of a teenage girl, fluttering over her eyes with the sparkling of the sun. The girl continued to turn these words over, pillowing her head with her hands as the morning ticked by. She did not stir at the rustle of the leaves or the sounds of the trees picking up.

A grave is covered in flowers.

Her grandmother's grave is covered in flowers. She put new ones there once a week.

When Celebi had gone, she had gone with them, as was the priestess' duty. Celebi was not gone for eternity, the timeless forest had not disappeared, merely wilted. But the woman had wilted, so young, so soon. She had wilted and faded away with the times, at the tender age of sixty-five, and left her, 'Anabel 'Lila' Solidad of Crown City, the mark of the vines.

It was the second act Anabel resented the woman for.

The first was dying at all, and leaving her with so little.

Not that either could be helped. The second her grandmere had fallen ill once, her mother had rushed to produce an heir, despite her job and joy and the patience she had had with her husband. Had rushed to produce her. It was that or be heckled.

Again, understandable.

The rod had not been spared, the child had not been spoiled.

Anabel opened her eyes slowly, blowing at the purple bangs that had fallen in her face. As she did, she heard and felt something play in the grass. "Hello Meema," she greeted. And here she had hoped it had been one of the neighborhood kids, come to play legend beasts and calamity. That was a really horrible game, when she thought about it.

There was a low grunt of dismay. _'See through me yet again.'_ A small, dark fox pulled herself from the bushes and trotted over on her stubby legs to reach Anabel's chest. 'And stop calling me that, for Arceus' sake.'

She laughed again. "You weren't even hiding, _Meema_." She pet the Zorua with a languid sort of smile on her face. One of the only things she liked about her hometown, the Pokemon, and their eagerness to teach. They, who pushed her gift from her blood and genes, were always happy to see her. "What are you doing here, I thought it was time to court again."

Meema huffed at her. _'Stop calling me that!'_ She nosed at Anabel's fingers, despite her agitated mental voice. _'It is, actually, and no one's willing to work with a little fool like me who won't even evolve. I'm starting to think I might have to leave, go somewhere else to find my mate and have eggs. I won't be young forever.'_

"Well, if you do that, you'll be less likely to come back than I would." Anabel scratched her floof of hair. "And why can't I call you that? You're my grandmother's oldest, dearest friend. You're all I have left of her. I called her the same, you know, as a toddler."

 _'And did that not get confusing?'_ She huffed but made no other protest. _'Aren't you leaving, little lilac?'_ Her hawkish tone took on something more worrying, more sweet. As a guardian would. It helped her look past the age, and the loss.

Anabel sighed, letting the ball of fluff onto her lap. "They don't want me to. They want me to take the heirship now, bind myself to the earth and nature. I'm only thirteen. Grandmere was in her early forties before she did it. She'd at least birthed my mother before they made her make roots."

 _'They're just anxious about the city. The area is still recovering from the calamity after all.'_ Meema licked at the friendly fingers. _'Just as I am and you are. They likely feel your stability will soothe the land. Humans like to believe things like that.'_

"Is it not true?" Anabel scratched one ear, realizing that she would be late if she stayed beneath the hidden shrine much longer. Not that that encouraged her any. She wasn't stable. She was a teenager and antsy and easily bored. That was not stable at all.

 _'Only somewhat true.'_ Meema hopped off of her chest and began to nudge at her side. _'Nature does as it wills. Sometimes, even with the greatest effort, something cannot be saved. And sometimes, with no magic at all, but simple faith, miracles happen.'_

Anabel sat up in a slump and heaved a sigh. "I'm not sure that I can do this."

 _'So do something else.'_ Meema nosed her legs. _'Your grandmere did not give you the gift to squander it in this city. I know that.'_

"She spoke of it often, I suppose." Anabel sighed and pulled herself to her feet, brushing at the inevitable grass stains on her white and gold clothes. They didn't care, of course, but still. "Never to me."

 _'Of course not.'_ Meema leaped to her shoulder. _'You would have left before she could choose you. Now you have a duty and a reason to return to your roots, as she would put it. Old fool.'_ She nosed Anabel's hair, clearly in an attempt to put it to less mess. ' _You would have returned, at least to see the green shine. And you would have blabbed about it to anyone who would listen. Grandmere did not come to this idea easily, little lilac.'_

"Now, who is using annoying nicknames?" Anabel sighed and left the comfort of the healing grove. She would have to see them anyway. She didn't have much of a choice. "I saved for it, for everything. I took the online test and passed. I have the ticket. There's nothing stopping me from leaving."

 _'Nothing except yourself.'_

Anabel sighed and nodded. Always the greatest barrier.

 _A grave is still a grave when it's covered in flowers._

A loss, a lie, an isolation, was what it was no matter how much you tried to cover it.

As she left, Anabel made a few leaves dance for her fingers.

* * *

"Just in time, young miss, oh goodness, your clothes." Her caretaker let out a weary sigh. "That is difficult to wash out, you understand."

She shot the man an apologetic look as she passed. That was the only complaint anyone had about it: dealing with the laundry. The fast that she could get grass stains on her clothes was a lucky thing. It was a sign that something was working in all of their efforts.

"Where are Mother and Father?" She avoided using that way of reference most of the time, except when she was mad at them. This was one of those days. The best day for the ceremony was tomorrow. The best day for her to call Celebi, to beg for the restoration of the land and tie herself down to the earth, was tomorrow. It was decided she would do it, before she could even propose her idea. Before she could do what she wished without sneaking about.

 _I should be fine with it._ She waved farewell to the fox as Meema disappeared down the path into the depths of the city, door closing sedately behind them as she walked away. _This is what I need to do._

She wanted the flowers to bloom more. She wanted the sun to dazzle her world in light and warm her skin.

Anabel rubbed away tears that weren't there and moved out to the small garden. She exhaled heavily to announce herself, as a teenager ought to do, she told herself. Heavy sighs, dramatic dragging, all of that. So long as she performed her duty, they didn't care what she did in anything else.

But what she wanted to do went so wildly against that. What would it mean for this place if she left?

She would have to decide what she needed to do, and soon.

Her parents greeted her, wrapped their arms around her like nothing was wrong, and she let their warmth and dirt smell envelop her. Her mother touched her hand, touched the mark at her wrist, the twining vines squirming at her fingerpads.

Whether she wanted to accept it or not, it would be for the last time in a long while.

* * *

Anabel awoke to the caws of a Honchkrow. Her pale fingers clenched at her futon cover as she looked up at the waxing gibbous moon through her bedroom window. She stared at it for a long while, feeling the languidness in her limbs, the peace in her stomach. She could stay. She could wake up in a few hours, and do her duty. After all, there were flowers everywhere, a bright blue sky. There was little she could see out there that she could not see here.

She thought that, and yet Anabel sat up and rolled to put her futon away. She slid into her closet and dug for the bag she had bought a year before, unused. She pulled out the supplies she had squirreled away or traded for seeds or magic tricks. She packed them away neatly, with the nearly impossible sleeping bag at the bottom. She found her money hidden under a loose mat. Then, she looked on her dresser where her clothes for tomorrow's important evening were folded. She stared at them, some of the delicate threads visible in the light. Pure white and gold, with purple bottoms. To accentuate her hair and skin, her mother had said. Anabel took a deep breath, then exhaled. Then she snatched the outfit and stuffed it away, not caring if it creased. Then, with her survival kit in one pocket, she left her room, silently closing its worn doors behind her. The note sat placidly on the floor.

She did not sneak through a window, or make the floor creak. She just walked the same as she always did, like she meant to be out this late with a bag. When the door opened, it was perfectly normal. Then it was closed, like it had never opened at all.

As she walked, the fear began to grip her stomach. She was going out in the wild. She had to get to the Canalave port in five days to make the ferry to Pallet Town. She had to hope she would survive day one.

 _'There you are, little lilac.'_ Meema's voice was low and amused. _'I was beginning to think I would have to wake you up.'_

Anabel would have jumped if she wasn't used to telepathic interruptions. _'Meema, why are you out so late?'_ She did not speak aloud as she normally would, for it was late and it would wake someone up. Also she would have screamed. Not appropriate.

 _'Don't call me that, little lilac!'_ The scolding came out half-hearted as the fox's stubby legs rushed to keep up with her long ones. _'Someone has to keep you alive wherever you're going and I need a ticket out of here. Seems fitting, doesn't it?'_

Anabel made a noise of discontent. Well, it did kill two birds with one stone. _'Can you get your own food?'_

 _'I've been feeding myself since before you were born, girl! Don't you worry about me now.'_ Meema's paws strode all the faster. _'Let's just get going.'_

Anabel almost looked back. Almost. But at Meema's irritated growls, she didn't. She moved away from her house, out of the city, and as far away from her duty as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Hey, thanks for your patience. And now we continue. Thanks for all of the support!

* * *

 **Chapter Two: The Tugging Vines**

 _A port is for final endings, not new beginnings. It only works if you reach it._

Anabel's mother had been buried, as all who died in the service of war or childbirth were buried, far from Crown City. It was to let them give their services to all of nature, down to the nutrients in their marrow. Her stepmother, who had always been considered in her heart to be her mother, discouraged her from going here aside from the once a year respects. Grandmother encouraged her not to listen. Anabel didn't listen.

She stared at the small shrine with trepidation and guilt in her stomach. They could find her here rather easily if they wanted. They knew she loved this place, unlike most of her kind. Earth mages, psychics, they tended to value light, life. And yet here she was, looking at her mother's name etched in stone, at the photograph lightly covered in dust.

"I'm going on a journey mom," she said.

Meema watched with thoughtful yips, marking a path from one side of the little shrine to the other.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring any flowers," Anabel continued. "It was spur of the moment. I don't think they'll let me come back here for a while."

More silence. The leaves rustled.

"I know you made me for roots," she said and the wind protested. "I kind of hate you for that. But maybe I'll understand when I'm older. Maybe I'll be stronger then. Maybe I'll be better for this. I don't know. I know you don't. I know you can't."

She was probably a little insane, talking to a stone. But it wasn't like she had any friends. There was no one to go with her on this journey for now, except Meema.

Anabel closed her eyes and bowed her head, letting the leaves speak for her, to her. For a moment or two, she relished in the nature she had grown up with so fondly. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned on her heel. "Bye mom."

Meema waited for her to walk past before sinking into a stubby bow. Then with a scoffing swish of her tail, she went after her current charge.

'So sentimental,' she teased.

Anabel chortled. "Was it?"

'Root bearers are supposed to put a better head on their shoulders than that.'

"According to you."

She kept walking, and wondered if her Meema was right.

* * *

The roads to port towns were the clearest and best kept pathways in Sinnoh, barring the one up in Snowpoint, for obvious reasons. So many walked them, so many needed safe passage. There wasn't much choice. It didn't matter what region, that was a common rule of thumb if you wanted an economy.

Not that this helped Anabel be any less paranoid as the days went on. Even the best kept roads were easy to see attacks. They were just stupid attackers. Meema was perched on her head as a scout, a rather comical image considering the weight of the Zorua. Not for the first time,, Anabel prayed for a starter.

She was going to have to decide that soon, she realized, having little else to think about that wouldn't depress her. Anabel sighed. The first Pokemon was an important decision, and to look like a typical, privileged trainer, she would need to pick a starter from the region she was heading to.

Honestly though, she wanted a Turtwig. They were a pain to get outside of Sinnoh or Johto (because Johto was the best place to breed most any Pokemon anyway.) so that idea was naturally nixed. L

Anabel sighed and hurried on. She felt a pair of eyes resting on her bony shoulder blades and refused to turn. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of frightening her. She was a future root of Crown City. Roots clung to the earth and weaved their path. They weren't going to crumple at one stalker.

'Relax,' Meema chided in her mind. 'They have one pokemon, and it's no match for me. You really do need your own.'

"Yes and stealing my friends from their parents is a great idea at two in the morning."

Meema huffed at her, as if she didn't believe the implausibiity. Too bad, it was true. She kept walking, not listening for footsteps, not listening in particular. After all, they could just be a fellow traveler heading to port.

Hah. Right. Okay. She was a defenseless (mostly) girl on the open road. Right, she was fine.

She kept walking, aiming for the distant Canalave with a slight increase in the speed of her steps. It was only a couple of hours away. Then she could get to the Pokemon Center and borrow a room. She wasn't a trainer yet, but she would be, so they had to at least let her in so she could get out of the way before her follower got a hold of her.

Now, she just had to get there.

* * *

Further along, much further, a fisherman stopped her and offered her a free, decent rod. She took it; she never refused free stuff. Every trainer was like that. Even if it bit you, you could drop it in a trash can. But most weren't that stupid. Anabel stuffed the folded rod into her bag and hurried on. The stalker was gone now, but that likely wouldn't last. Why would they bother anyway? It wasn't like it was _her_ fault that they hadn't seen Celebi for so long, that the land had been cursed.

She pressed forward into the restway regardless. Her Meema (after all, once her grandmother had passed, Meema had become hers somehow, yes?) caused people to follow her as she sat down. She shut her eyes and ignored them as best as she could. She had no idea if Canalave was bustling and noisy or not. Crown was peaceful even with all of its people. She had never left its walls before.

 _Oh Arceus help me._

She was going into a completely foreign region of the world with no support system. What had she been thinking? Escape, Anabel's mind reminded her. She had been thinking of escape.

When she felt the throbbing in her calves, starting to ebb, she made herself rise and head into the city. The smell of seawater was thick and rich. She covered a sneeze and looked out. Her purple eyes went wide as saucers.

"Oh..." Anabel whispered, staring at the many islands of Canalave dotting the sea. " _Oh_."

'Having any second thoughts now?' Meema teased, earning a soft smack on the head. Anabel scanned the islands for the roof of the Pokemon Center, which somehow managed to be distinctive no matter what city people ended up in.

"No," she said, loud enough for the stalker to hear. "No, I don't." Then she hurried across a smaller bridge. She was relieved not to hear it immediately creak right after her.

* * *

In the night, she found her relief was short-lived.

A shadow paced about the door to her Center room. Anabel knew the footsteps, made as softly as possible, like she could avoid spooking the leaves off of the trees. Her stepmother was persistent, she'd give her that.

"Please leave, Mom," she said through the door after she came out of the shower.

"Come home with me." Aha. She knew that soft voice anywhere. "The City needs you, darling."

"It's healing fine without me." It wasn't entirely true, but a young teenager could not do anything better than an adult could, and she couldn't do anything her grandmother already had tried to do. The guilt trip would not work, all right? It just wouldn't.

"Your father is terrified for you, darling. So am I. At least let me in."

"No." Anabel heard her words wobble on her tongue. "I can't. I'm already here."

"If you go, they may not let you back." Her voice turned low and thunderstorm fear-sad and she had the impression that her stepmother was telling the truth. Because why would she lie?

Meema hissed by her hand, curse words that Anabel really shouldn't have known that didn't stop the heartbreak to hear anyway. She couldn't come home if she kept going. They needed her but they would get rid of her and make a new baby if she didn't comply.

'As if,' Meema hissed again, laughing now. 'They got lucky you have any talent, they think they can just breed humans as fast as pokemon and get a savior? Hardly.'

Small comfort. Very small.

"At least think about it child," her stepmother begged. "Please. You don't have to take a journey. Some people simply do not. The City loves you. The earth loves you. Isn't that enough?"

* * *

As Anabel silently left the Pokemon Center the next morning, boat ticket from a sleepy Nurse Joy in hand, she mused to herself and knew that love was not enough. The feeling was not enough. She adjusted the straps on her back, felt for the remaining money in one pocket. She would have to be frugal after her first purchases in Kanto. A new bag, with the discs to store items, and her trainer application and what came with it.

Sure, that app came with a starter amount of money but seriously who could survive on that? Even if she had been born in a family that didn't have prestige, it would be difficult.

She hurried to the large drawbridge, to the port. She felt like a coward now, more than she had when sneaking out in the dead of night. But this time, it couldn't be helped. She had no idea what room she had been in.

She looked along the boats, following the direction of a kindly sailor. The ship she found was small, but reminded her of those speedboats she saw for use in Snowpoint. Were the currents that bad from that side? She usually saw people take planes, but those were expensive even if she _could_ go of her own free will. So ship it was.

Reaching the ramp, she hurried on. Meema was right at her heels, making her pause.

"Are you sure," she asked. This boat wouldn't take Meema to Unova, the best place for a Zorua to be.

Meema scoffed. "Leave you to a Pokemon with no idea of its capabilities. Not a chance, little lilac."

Anabel laughed, painful as it was, and waited for the ship to leave. For her old life to come to an end.

There was no turning back, if there ever had been.


End file.
